Archive of Our Own

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ❀ ໒꒱┈•  ｡ﾟ

Even If It Rains: Flower Crown Edition

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ❀ ໒꒱┈•  ｡ﾟ

Weeks after the memorial ceremony at Tidefoam Beach, the Boneyard began to reshape into what it formerly was.

The scattered dragon bones arched over the rolling plains as they always had, ever the pale, sun-bleached amber speckled spectacles. Children wove between them on their way to the Cultivarium; healers walked the familiar routes to the Soul Observatory with satchels at their hips. And The Blue Pools caught the light of the afternoon and scattered it in glimmering pieces across the shore. Life, in its ancient ways, continued here. And Meghill couldn’t be more thankful that it did. 

Because he needed it, more than anything.

The work of the clan chief was not difficult. But perhaps that in of itself was the problem. Patrol schedules, resource inventories, soulrift follow-up assessments; none of it asked anything of him beyond the mechanical application of attention. And attention was something he had in great abundance now that his own mind became not so pleasant a place to dwell in. What with Medael’s face surfacing in the unfilled moments of quiet. And so he filled them. Every hour before the sun cleared the ridge. Every hour after it fell. He always found something to do.

He was midway through a supply ledger when Angert’s shadow crossed the doorway. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The man’s presence was a particular one, and Meghill had learned to recognize it some years ago. 

“I do believe this is what we call in the industry, ‘overworking yourself.’”

He set the pen down and turned to look at his friend properly; the dark blue hair, the crossed arms, his expression of concern wearing the mask of exasperation.

“Is that so?” The albino mused.

“You’ve been at it non-stop. Paperwork, patrols, soulrift healings you didn’t need to take on yourself.” Angert stepped into the room, his voice borderline irritated if not for the profound worry tinging its corners. “Every morning you find something new and every evening there’s still more. Even that fat cat has been giving you looks.”

“I think that’s merely how his face looks, Angert.”

“Then what about Nikki?”

Meghill said nothing to that, for his friend had hit him where it mattered. The pink haired girl had given him a worried look last time they met. Asking if he’s been taking care of himself, to which he promised that he would once work settled down; naturally omitting the fact that he’s prolonging that very precondition. In a way, he took advantage of her gullibility, didn’t he?

“I’m aware of how my conduct appears,” he said finally. A useless omission.

“Then you know why I’m here.”

“I know why Angert-my-friend is here.” The white-haired man looked at him. “What I’m less clear on is whether the rest of them sent you, or whether you came on your own.”

“…Both.”

Somehow, he knew that was the answer. 

He crossed the room and set his hand on Meghill’s shoulder. The grip was firm. “One day,” he said. “That’s all I’m asking. Just one day where you don’t go looking for something to do.” 

Then he paused, debating if the next words were worth the hurt it’ll cause.

“You know she would have hated seeing you like this.”

“…I’ll think about it,” Meghill replied.

Angert studied him for a moment. Whatever he saw in the answer, or didn’t see, he let it be. He exhaled slowly through his nose, released Meghill’s shoulder, and turned toward the door.

“Alright,” he said. “I trust you know what to do with this then.”

This?

“Catch.”

Meghill did it by reflex and peered down.

It was…a Soul Ocarina, small and worn smooth with use, resting in his palm. He recognized it before he had fully processed what he was seeing, the particular way it had been carved, the faint iridescence of the material. The one he had given to Nikki.

He was on his feet before he’d made the decision to stand.

“What happened to her—”

“She’s fine.” Angert finally glanced back, his expression carrying mild amusement at his dear friend’s distress. “Don’t worry. She’s at the Cultivarium with the children, safe and sound. I’d wager she got so caught up teaching them Ferry Song that she set it down and forgot to pick it back up.”

Meghill looked at the ocarina, then at Angert. Who raised both hands briefly in a gesture of complete innocence, which only had the effect of making him look considerably more guilty.

“It should probably go back to her,” his friend said in faux observation. “And since you’re the one who gave it to her in the first place, it would make much more sense for it to come from you than from me. Naturally.”

He huffed, shaking his head, though not in denial, only disapproval. “…So you’re asking your chief to run an errand immediately after scolding me for working too much?”

“What’s that? I really can’t hear you, patrol calls.” The blue haired Parksolian was already moving, his footsteps carrying him briskly down the corridor. 

“Don’t stay in all day!” Was the last of him fading down the hallway.

Meghill stood alone in the room for a moment, the ocarina still in his hand. Outside, the wind moved through the land’s old bones. The light through the window had shifted while he wasn’t watching, edging further from gold toward something grayer. He closed his fingers around the ocarina.

He had planned to do a patrol this afternoon regardless. The Cultivarium was not far out of the way.

The clan chief stood from his desk.

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He heard the children first when approaching, their voices tumbling over one another without any interest in taking turns, and underneath it all, steady and warm, was Nikki’s. Then came Momo’s, louder than any creature his size should reasonably be, declaring something with great conviction that was immediately drowned out by the children laughing harder.

Meghill passed beneath the Cultivarium’s outer arch and followed the sound.

They were gathered near the far end of the courtyard, where the old stonework gave way to grass. A loose cluster of Parksolian children surrounded Nikki on all sides, several of them holding Soul Ocarinas, watching with focused attention as she demonstrated something on a borrowed one. One small boy in the back was already attempting to replicate what she’d shown him, brow furrowed with the seriousness of it.

Meghill’s body came to a stop. Or perhaps brought to it was the better word.

He was aware that he was lingering and that it was needless, borderline strange, even. But he couldn’t help but watch Nikki lean over to correct a child’s hand position on his ocarina. With all the patience one would expect out of a saintess, and the smile too. 

He…had thought about her often in the weeks since the memorial. How he owed her a debt that could never be repaid. She had saved his people, all that he loved, even if by putting an end to someone he extended that same love to. She had walked into the end of what Medael had set in motion and stood in the way of it, armed with her magic and whatever it was that made her the person she was, and she did what no one else could. Effortlessly and without expectation of repayment.

Because she really did seem to not want anything in exchange for the weight she had lifted off from them. The girl simply moved on, looking for the next place she could be useful. And now she’s teaching children Ferry Song in borrowed courtyards, her cat slightly rumpled beside her. And Meghill was glad she had her companion. She traveled far and carried too much to be left alone in this world.

Ears standing up in alarm, Momo spotted him first. “Nikki! Look!” he exclaimed. She heeded her companion, smiling when she saw it was Meghill; but then her eyes dropped to what he was holding

“That’s—” She got up and stepped forward, leaving the children momentarily to their own devices. “How did you find it?”

The man held it out to her and she took it with care, turning it over once in her gloved hands.

“Someone brought it to me,” he explained. “They thought it looked like one of my spares, from before I gave it to you. And I recognized it when I saw it.”

Nikki looked at him for a moment, then nodded slowly. “I see…That does make sense.” There was nothing in her voice that doubted his sincerity, and he tried to stifle the guilt that it seeded.

“So it was just a misunderstanding? We really thought someone stole this from Nikki,” Momo said, rubbing the back of his head. He sounded like he wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or unsatisfied. “The weird thing is that only Nikki’s went missing. The other kids left their ocarinas out too and none of them were touched.”

“I was as surprised as you are.” Meghill settled on half-truths. 

“But understand this, if there’s any ill intent behind it, if there’s even an ounce of malice towards Nikki, they will answer to me for it...”

The two of them exchanged a worried glance.

“...But if it would give you peace of mind, I can look into the matter myself.”

“No, no,” Nikki said quickly after hearing his suggestion, shaking her head. “Please don’t go through all that trouble. It’s as you said, I’m sure, someone must not have known you’d given it to me. It’s back now, and that’s what matters.” She turned the ocarina over once more in her hands, then held it a little closer. 

“And…” She trailed off and Meghill couldn’t help but notice the extra weight behind it. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s just…I was thinking about what Angert said when he stopped by earlier.” 

“You met Angert?” 

She nodded. “He said he was patrolling nearby and came to see us. We talked for a while and he brought up that you’d been overworking yourself. That…you hadn’t been resting.”

Momo chimed in as well, raising his paws as he craned up his head to face his audience. “He also said everyone was worried about you. That you keep taking on more than you have to, even when nothing actually needs doing—and that you won’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Very stubborn.”

Meghill felt the beginning of a headache settle in just behind his eyes. He had known Angert was serious when he came to the office. He had not anticipated the reach of it extending here. Extending to her.

“I apologize if what he said caused you any unease.” He let out a quiet breath, otherwise known as a sigh. “But I assure you, I’m alright. What I’ve been doing is simply what the role demands, especially given everything the clan has been through.” 

The young chief said his piece, but he could tell it wasn’t enough. What with how Nikki was watching him with that precious look of her, made up of nothing but good hearted concern that felt undeserved. So, so undeserved.

“Parksolians are known for their resilience,” he continued, offering what looked to be a convincing smile. Because there were things to smile about still. After all, she was still here. And so was he, and so many others.

“Really, Nikki. You don’t need to worry about this.”

“Even so, you’ve already given so much, Meghill. More than anyone should have to.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t handled before as chief,” he said with polite finality. She looked at him for a moment longer, only to then let it rest. Ever the polite girl, she didn’t push; simply nodded while still wearing the worry on her face. 

“Then we won’t keep you,” she said, almost dejectedly. Almost enough to make him reconsider himself. Almost. 

“Thank you, for coming out of your way to bring this back.”

“It was no trouble.” He inclined his head toward her, and then to Momo. “Take care of yourselves.”

As Meghill was walking away, he heard Momo behind him giving his commentary.

“He’s still going to go work himself into the ground, isn’t he?”

“Momo…!”

“I’m just asking!”

꒰ა ❀ ໒꒱

The hesitation in Nikki’s eyes stayed in his mind. Lingering like the shadow of a ghost. 

She had smiled, and waved, turning back to the children without push and pull; all of it perfectly ordinary, and yet the echoes of unsaid things clung onto his conscience as he made his way through the Cultivarium’s inner halls, settling into place beside everything else the clan chief insisted on carrying.

Because the bottom line was—he did not want her to worry about him. Of all the things the girl could spend herself on, all the places she could direct that unconditional concern of hers, he was among the least deserving. She had already done enough. Had already given more to this clan, to him, than he could account for; and the thought of her carrying even a fraction of his weight on top of her own sat poorly with him for obvious reasons.

Meghill resolved, as he found the scholars and sat down to the business that had actually brought him here, to give her less reason for it going forward.

Then he finished with the scholars and went on patrol anyway.

꒰ა ❀ ໒꒱

The Blue Pools were quiet at this hour, as quiet as the ever swirling water could be, anyways. Sitting there to compete for the ear’s attention with all the other commotions of daylight. The glitter reflection of it came off the surface in rumpled sheets as the afternoon thinned toward evening. He walked the entire circuit, spoke to the Parksolians stationed at the outer markers, took their observations, and noted nothing requiring intervention. 

He went to the Soul Observatory next.

The researchers there had grown accustomed to his visits. They no longer looked up with the same degree of surprise when he came through the door, which he supposed meant he had been coming often enough that it had become unremarkable. He sat with them for the better part of two hours, reviewing the latest documentation on soulrift cases, cross-referencing it against past numbers and progression patterns. To make sure that everything wasn’t for naught and he could sleep easy at night.

That was the reasoning he gave to himself this time. Which was an improvement somewhat compared to the nothingness that he conjured last time, with the exception of the default ‘it’s what the chief does.’

Meghill knew deep down he was going against his word, aware of the irony. He had told Nikki that his diligence was simply what the role demanded, and that was true enough, but it was not the whole truth, nor was he under illusion that it was. Angert had named the rest of it plainly enough that morning. He simply preferred to let it remain dead in name in his friend’s absence, at least for now, until the pull between his heart and all the thoughts he left buried in the sands of Tidefoam Beach diminished enough for him to pick them back up at his own pace. 

Medael had made her choice. He had not been able to stop her. He had failed to see it coming until it was almost too late, and Nikki…she was the one to have stepped in. Who brought him back to his sister—or, at least, what remained of her. Someone so different from his memory yet all the same nonetheless.

He pressed his pen to the page and kept reading.

By the time he left the Soul Observatory, the sky had begun to grey despite night being a ways away, the clouds that had been building since morning now hung low over the Boneyard’s ridgelines. Seeing this, Meghill started back toward Great Lumieville. Cutting through the canyon northward, he had walked this route so many times that his feet knew it without instruction.

The notification came just as he exited the canyon, prompting to stop and draw out his pear-pal. 

Nikki’s name was at the top of the screen.

‘Sorry to bother you, Meghill.’

He stood there, still as a statue. Another message appeared beneath the first before he had finished reading it a third time.

‘Something suddenly came up and I think only you could help me.’

‘So I was wondering, if you’re free right now…’

He watched the screen.

‘…can you come over to Dragonrest Flowerfield?’

For a moment he simply stood with the Pear-Pal in his hand, the wind coming through the canyon behind him and the first faint pressure of rain beginning to gather in the air. Dragonrest Flowerfield was not close to where he was coming from. To go to it would mean having taken the longest route there and right past his originally intended destination. It was not on his route. It was, in most practical senses, entirely the wrong direction.

He looked up at the clouds. They had made their intentions clear and were not going to be talked out of them. It was not a good day nor time to go see the flowers.

But then he looked back down at the messages. Noting to himself that her quality of not being easily deniable carried out impeccably even in message. No sight, no sound, only memory and the pause before the last line, the apology at the start. And how that had been enough.

The look of her face in the Cultivarium courtyard flashed before his mind and he made his decision. 

The man typed back: I’m on my way.

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A field of crimson blooms that expanded as far as the eye can see—Dragon Breaths, they were called—and in the middle of it, the bones of a great beast that drew its last breath here long ago, that was the Dragonrest Flowerfield. A place that sat in a natural hollow between two of the Boneyard’s larger ridgelines, sheltered enough from the outer winds that things grew here which didn’t grow anywhere else in the region. The low, broad-petaled blooms found here have been compared to blood for as long as any Parksolians could remember. But to people who lived amongst the corpses of their divine blessers, it was more comfort than morbidity to be reminded of their remnants. 

And it was in this sea of crimson where Nikki was sitting, her legs folded beneath her, a small pile of gathered stems beside her knee. She had her back half-turned to the path and didn’t see him approach. Her head was bent with quiet attention over something in her hands as the wind combed through her pink hair. Momo was sitting beside her, his white ears twitched when Meghill came close. 

“Oh wow,” the cat exclaimed. “Look Nikki, he actually came!”

The girl looked up and her face lit when she saw him. She lifted her hand to wave him over, the other hand still loosely holding a half-braided stem. “Meghill! Come, come, over here.” She beckoned.

He crossed the field toward them, stepping between the blooms. When he reached them he looked at the small pile of gathered flowers beside her knee, then at the half-finished crown in her lap, then at Nikki.

“You said you needed my help with something?” 

“I did.” She looked up at him without an ounce of deception, though by now both of them knew that some degree of it had been committed. “I was making flower crowns, but then I realized I had no one to wear them besides myself and Momo…So I was hoping you could help us?”

Momo turned away and appeared to find something very interesting in the middle distance. A butterfly, perhaps.

“Just to wear?” He mused. “Not even to make?”

“Oh—I’d love it if you would make some as well!” A spark shone in her eyes then at the suggestion as she gathered a separate pile of stems and blooms for him. “Do you know how to?”

Meghill looked at the stems in her outstretched hand; he looked at the sky, which had gone cloudy grey. But then he looked back at Nikki, who was still holding the stems out to him, patient as any saint, her eyes soft and waiting.

He knelt down, joining her by her side.

“I’d be happy to help you.”

He had entertained the idea of this being a real request on the walk over, he even allowed himself to worry. But deep in his heart, perhaps he always knew what would be waiting for him here. Her in the crimson sea, wanting nothing from him other than his presence in her vicinity. Something small and mundane. 

It didn’t matter. She was the one person he could not find it in himself to disappoint right now, with the wounds so fresh. 

“Thank you,” Nikki said warmly, as though this entire thing was within either of their range of normalcy, and settled the bundle of stems into his hands. He turned one over between his fingers, a freshly picked dragon breath. “You could have just said you wanted me to sit with you.”

“But would you have come?”

Yes. His heart said. His rationale remained silent. 

“...If you wanted an evening, I’d promise you an entire night later this week—or day, whichever one you want. I’d move around whatever is needed.”

The man doubts there's a single demand that could come from such a pure heart that he’d want to deny.

“But I didn’t want a later time. I wanted it to be now.”

It was likely one of the most selfish things she’s  ever done, and it was nonetheless for the good of another. That’s an honor in its way. For it to have been for him.

Nikki smiled, something small and a little knowing. Beautiful, if only he would simply be honest with himself. “So it seems to have been the right call after all,” she said simply, and returned to her own braiding as though the matter were entirely settled. And following her lead, Meghill began working the stems without comment. His hands remembered the motion easily enough, he had made dozens of these with the clan’s children over the years, small things to keep small hands occupied during long ceremonies. The work was quiet and asked very little of him, and he found after a minute or two that his shoulders had dropped slightly from when he first was holding them.

They worked in silence for a while. The field held them both gently, rippling with the wind, and the flowers gave off a faint scent when handled, green and faintly sweet. Nikki worked with focus, occasionally tilting her head to examine what she’d made, occasionally glancing over at his with undisguised curiosity.

“Wow, you’re good at this,” she said.

“I’ve made them before.”

“For the children?”

“When I have the time, yes”

Her chuckle rang through the air, and the man had no idea why his body refused to look for it. Then she smiled again and went back to her work. Where then moments passed before either of them spoke again

“Can I ask you something, Meghill?” she said, her eyes drifting across the field.

“Of course.”

“What’s your favorite flower?”

He considered the question. It wasn’t something he’s thought about, in fact, he doesn’t think anyone has ever asked. It simply wasn’t something relevant to the life of a Parksolian clan chief.

“...Boneflame blooms, I think. For the way they flicker in the night.” He settled.

“Oh—I adore them too!” Nikki exclaimed, and from the sound of her voice, maybe even more so than him. “I like how they glow in the night, and they look a lot like a flower from my homeland.”

“Really now? And where might that be” Meghill mused, curious at the mention of such a place, but then he saw the solemn look that graces her visage and regretted ever owning a tongue. 

“It’s…somewhere far away.” She answered quietly. “And I hope I can return to it someday with Momo once we’ve sorted out everything here, even if Miraland does feel like home to us.”

“I see…” He wanted to tell her again that the clan will always welcome her as one of their own, but the words got stuck in his throat.

“It’s not as beautiful as the ones here though, if you were wondering. Ours don’t look like flames at night, no matter the distance…” She trailed off. “Ah, should I go pick some for you? Your crown, I mean.”

His blue eyes went wide. “What? No—”

“It’s okay, they’re just a little ways away over there. I’ll be right back.” The girl got up from her spot on the ground and dusted the pollen from her carefully chosen outfit. Getting ready to leave. “I remember there being quite a few around the bones—”

“Nikki.”

Meghill grabbed her hand, though propriety hadn’t meant to. 

“Please, there’s no need. I’m sure the crowns will turn out just fine without them.”

It was so much smaller than his own, her hand; pale skin and rounded nails. So different from his own features, yet she too looked like she grew up holding pens to paper her entire life. Sketching designs, perhaps. Maybe he’ll ask her another day. 

“I…Okay then, Meghill.”

She returned to his side and continued her work, it was her second crown and this one was much larger than the first one she made. The sun had cleared the ridge now and the light coming through the gap was low and amber Nikki had set her finished crown gently in her lap and was looking out toward where the light was warmest, her hands still for a moment. There was no particular hurry in her.

Meghill noticed that he had stopped braiding.

“I’m sure you had something else planned for the day,” he said to her, his voice low. “Another person to help out, maybe visit some friends, explore around…” the rest didn’t need to be spoken out loud.

Nikki tilted her head. “You needed somewhere to be that wasn’t work,” she said softly, like explaining something to a younger brother. “That’s all. I just wanted to give you that. Plus, aren’t we friends?”

“Yeah…we are.” He swallowed down his pride, his concern, his propriety. 

“…Thank you, Nikki.”

She smiled again. “I hope you know I was happy to do it.”

Momo came back from his frolicking and looked between the two of them, and once he deemed enough assessment to be done, puffed out his fluffy chest with a satisfied look. “You’re both welcome, by the way,” he said. “For my genius idea.”

“Heheh, yes. Thanks a lot, Momo.”

Meghill smiled too. “Yes, thank you.”

Above the hollow, the clouds had drawn close and the air had taken on the held, heavy stillness that came just before rain. The chief had perhaps twenty minutes, if that. He should have been on the path back to Great Lumieville already. Finding himself at a loss for decisions, Meghill glanced over to check on Nikki.

She was working with the dragonbreaths interspersed with small white fillers he hadn’t noticed her gathering. The crown taking shape in her hands was larger than the others she’d made, and fuller, and she kept tilting it to check the weight of it, making small adjustments. She had complimented him, but Meghill didn’t see how she was no better.

Then Nikki held it up and went still. “Oh,” she said softly.

Momo looked over. “What?”

“This one.” She turned it slowly, studying it from every angle. “This might be my favourite one yet.”

The cat leaned in for a closer look. “I guess it’s better than any of the other ones you made, yeah,” he said.

The girl brought it down and looked at it for another moment, and then she looked at Meghill.

“Meghill,” she said. “Close your eyes.”

He blinked. 

“Please?” She added, and smiled to make it more persuasive.

He held her gaze for a moment. Then, with no further argument, because there was no version of this in which he said no to that voice, he closed his eyes.

He heard her shift in the grass, the small sound of her moving closer, and then her hands were above his head, gentle and careful. There was a faint pressure of the crown coming down, then it stopped. She made a quiet hum and started on another attempt. The crown caught on the ride of one of his horns and she tried to ease it back at an angle, adjusting the angle,

“Almost,” she murmured, mostly to herself.

Momo watched the entire thing with great interest. “You know you could just—”

“I have it,” Nikki said determinedly. With one final adjustment, the crown settled onto his head; then Meghill opened his eyes. 

He saw Nikki, saw her grin, and everything stopped.

It was the brightest thing he’s seen in this sea of crimson, brighter than any flower born to glimmer in the night. And gods help him soul—because she looked at him like she saw something beautiful.

He was aware of the crown sitting beside his horns. Of the field around them, the flowers, the cooling air and the clouds above that had been preparing their final act since dawn. He knew that the light was almost gone and Great Lumieville was a long walk from here, how he had already stayed longer than he should have.

And he was aware, all too clearly and all too inappropriately, of how much he did not want to leave.

“Well?” Nikki said, still smiling. “How does it feel?”

The man was quiet for a moment. Because something beside his ribs ached. 

“It fits,” he said simply.

“It almost didn’t,” she said, laughing softly. “Your horns are very pretty, Meghill. But they don’t make things easy.”

He was blushing now.

Momo looked between them, opened his mouth, then closed it again, a rare occurrence. Instead settled to look up at the sky and all its rain clouds that were drawing clouds. The first faint drops of rain had begun to find their way down from the heavens, catching the last of the grey light as they fell. Meghill should have been gone already. The walk back to Great Lumieville would be a wet one now. He’d be scolded for this as a child—hell, he still might be as an adult. Just not by the woman with him. 

From above, the first real rumble of thunder came down on them.

“That’s our cue,” the cat announced, and began gathering himself to stand.

Nikki was still looking at Meghill with that face. The crown sat against his horns, slightly askew from where she’d wrestled it into place from him tilting his head up, and she reached up without thinking to straighten it. It was only a small adjustment, two fingers at the brim, but then seemed to realize what she’d done and lowered her hand with a quiet laugh.

“Sorry,” she said. “Habit. I do that with Momo’s hood.”

“But I’m right here,” Momo said.

“I know.” She giggled.

Meghill opened his mouth, but the thunder rolled again, closer.

“We should go,” he said, standing up from his spot. And he even meant it.

“Yeah…”

Neither of them moved.

Momo looked between them with a knowing look, then he settled back down into the grass and pulled his yellow cloak tighter and resigned himself aside, his paws holding protectively onto the crown made for him. The rain that followed the thunder was still light, the same fine drizzle that had been threatening since midafternoon, but still nothing one should stay out for. 

“The Parksolians used to hold vigils here,” Meghill said. He hadn’t planned to say it, but the words found their way out of his system. 

“When a chief passes on, the people would sit in the field through the night and wait for the rain to come, because they believed the dragons wept with them.” He looked out across the field. 

“Medael used to say it was the most beautiful tradition we had. Although one she would rather never partake in.”

The irony echoed back.

“…She would have hated what she became,” he said, almost convincingly. “That’s what I believe, at least. Up until the end, I believed that the sister I knew was still somewhere underneath it, and that if I could reach her—” He stopped, eyes closed, his right hand squeezed down on the flowers, breaking all the work he’s put into it.

“I didn’t reach her. You did what I couldn’t, by putting a stop to it. Something that I should have been able to do.”

“Meghill—”

“And I’m not saying it to diminish what you did. I’m saying it because it’s true, and because I’ve been carrying it, and—” He exhaled slowly through his nose. “I owe you more than I know how to express. That’s also true.”

Nikki was quiet for a moment. The rain was falling between them.

“You don’t owe me anything,” she said softly, her hand reaching out for his harm, giving them a squeeze through the fabric of his robe. 

“That’s not—”

“You don’t,” she said again, gently but clearly. “I didn’t do it for a debt, Meghill. I did it because it needed to be done and because I cared about the outcome. Because I cared about your people."

He looked at the saintess; the rain caught in her lashes, the droplet on her cupid’s bow, the two on her lips. He never did ask her how she came across that title, though he wasn't surprised that she did. Maybe titles like that had a way of finding their rightful owners.

“I…I don’t know how you do it.” The man sighed, and whatever it was that was laced in his voice, it made her arms wrap around him and pull him close. 

“It’s okay, Meghill,” she said to him, her cheek pressed against his chest because that was where her head came up. And if she were to look up…

“I promise, one day, everything will feel okay again. Even if not the same way as before, it will. Really, it will.”

He wanted to cry. He wanted to take her home, lean on her small shoulders, cry a river and let that set everything back in its right place in life. He wanted a lot of things, but what he should do was be on his way. He should say something composed, be mature, should definitely lead the woman back to sanctuary rather than to let her be his. That was what his role required, and that role had always promised the clearest instruction available to him when everything else would crumble to dust.

Instead he heard himself say, very quietly:

“...Will you let me stay like this, just for a while?”

It was a request he would have scolded himself for making on any other day. But today was the day she wanted him here—with her. And today, he found himself saying those words. An unreasonable request.

But Nikki didn’t hesitate.

“Of course, for as long as you need.”

She squeezed him tighter in her arms, her gentle hands splayed across his broad back, and said nothing all the while. Because there was nothing that needed saying. The rain came down on them both and she didn’t flinch from it. Like it couldn’t be felt.

Meghill closed his eyes. 

He couldn’t feel the rain either. Be it on his shoulders, the back of his neck, the tops of his hands where they rested at his sides, slowly finding their way to her waist. Everything was numb. He could only hear their soft percussion against petal stone—that, and his own beating heart. The latter he found to be especially deafening. 

But he felt Nikki’s arms, how it held him steady and warm. Vividly, he felt them.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ❀ ໒꒱┈•  ｡ﾟ

Once Meghill gathered himself and the unnecessary apologies finished tumbling from his pale lips, they set out winding routes into Great Lumieville. The rain stayed light for the first few minutes, a fine mist more than anything, drifting rather than falling, catching in Nikki’s hair and on the petals of the crown she’d placed on his head, of which was still holding on strong. Meanwhile, the one he made laid broken in her pockets, crushed by his own sharp claws.

The man looked quite guilty once realizing what he had done, but Nikki took no offense. This was all a pretense in the first place. Still, a part of him felt like he owed her another debt. 

A stronger gust came through the valley, carrying the rain sideways for a moment, and she turned her face away from it. He stepped closer without thinking, angling himself against the wind’s direction, his shoulder coming between her and the worst of it. He had tried to hurry with his pacing at first, but slowed down once he realized the shorter human was having trouble keeping up. Once he did, she started initiating conversation with Momo. This time on whether the leftover stems could be replanted somewhere near the Cultivarium if she were to use some magic on it.

“Probably not,” Momo was saying. “They’re Boneyard flowers. They like it weird and ancient here.”

“Everything is a little weird and ancient here,” Nikki said thoughtfully.

“Thank you,” Meghill chimed in and she laughed, surprised into it. A sound that carried down the ridge path ahead of them and came back softer.

“Sorry!”

“No offense taken.”

He wanted to enjoy the walk back with her, because he knew that this was the sweetest thing he’ll allow himself to indulge in for a while. Even if he were to take on the advice of not pushing himself as hard. But as the minutes passed and the rain got heavier, he couldn’t help but reconsider. 

“I really do wish I owned an umbrella…” Nikki mumbled, slicking her newly wet bangs away from her face. Beside her, Meghill frowned, if he had a coat, he’d lend it to her in a heartbeat. He probably would have insisted before they even took a single step back, but the glaring problem was that he simply didn’t. A most regrettable thing. 

“...We can run.” Meghill blurted out his best idea. She looked a little baffled at the suggestion.

“Run…?”

“Yeah, the city’s not too far away, so it won't be too bad of a sprint.”

“But Momo—”

“I can carry him again.”

She laughed, recalling the memory of the last time he did such a thing. The cat was heavier than he had anticipated, but it was nothing cumbersome. 

“Hey! Don’t I get a say in this!?” Momo exclaimed. 

“Well…the alternative is to stay out in the rain on your own two feet.”

The three of them took a look at the remaining distance and settled on an agreement.

“I’ll try to keep up.”

“And don’t you dare drop me!”

The mist turned into a proper drizzle, and by the time they reached the first of Great Lumieville’s marble tiles, it had developed into a proper rain. One that created puddles wherever they stepped, their lungs now out of breath and with a cat on the verge of motion sickness. A guard gawked at the pair with wide eyes when they finally took shelter in Meghill’s office building, and he was quick to voice his request. 

“Do help get us some towels please.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

The entrance hall of the administrative building was dry and warm in comparison with what they came in from, and once Meghill realized that they were set on waiting here for a while, he put Momo back down on the floor. Where then the cat immediately began to shake his fur of all the rain water it had caught on the way back.

“Momo,” Nikki scolded.

“I’m a wet cat,” he whined, now squeezing it out of his little yellow coat. “These are wet cat things. And plus, the two of you aren’t exactly dry either.”

When the attendant came back with the towels, he took it off their hands with thanks. Holding them in his arms, the first thing he did was try to dry off the girl next to him. Eliciting a confused chuckle from her lips when he did. 

“Haha, you do know that you look just as much as a wet cat as me, don’t you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Then what about propriety?”

He blinked his sapphire eyes owlishly before catching onto her meaning. She was wearing white, out of respect, he ought to avoid looking at her. “S-sorry,” he said, quick to turn his head away at the reminder, now holding out the towel for her to dry herself down.

“No offense taken.”

It wasn’t perfect, and the two of them were still likely to catch a cold later, but within a few minutes they’ve returned to being dry to touch. Though not without attracting quite a few stray glances.

“Nikki,” Meghill called out, folding the fabric in his arms.

“Mm?”

He met her warm brown eyes, feeling a smile on his lips. “Thank you,” he said again, sounding like a broken record at this rate.

“This evening was…well, I suppose I needed it. I didn’t know it, but you did, and I’m grateful.”

“Like I said, I was happy to do it. Even if by deception.”

He chuckled and took the damp towel from her hands. “Just don’t tell Angert his nagging worked, I fear to establish that kind of feedback system.

“My lips are sealed.”

It was spoken in jest, but the bottom line was true. The clan chief really had proven his friend correct. He had needed the time off.

And somehow, without ever asking for it, he’d been given one.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ❀ ໒꒱┈•  ｡ﾟ

Meghill was reviewing land patrol rotations the following morning when the door opened without a knock, which narrowed the possibilities considerably.

“So,” Angert said, dropping into the chair across from the desk. “How was it?”

He kept his eyes on the rotation schedule. “How was what?”

“Dragonrest Flowerfield.” He said, self-satisfaction evident in his tone. “Lovely this time of year, I’ve heard.” The albino man held back a sigh, only half successfully.

“…It was you who displaced Nikki’s ocarina.”

“Now, now, I returned Nikki’s ocarina to you for delivery.” His friend crossed one leg over the other. “Which I understand went very well.”

“You took something that wasn’t yours without asking.”

“I moved something temporarily with every intention of it being returned to its rightful owner. I’d say there’s a meaningful distinction.”

Meghill looked up and Angert met his gaze without trouble, he knew to expect this whole spiel from him. “Sorry, chief,” he said with a shrug.

“You’re not.”

“No,” he agreed easily. “But I said it, and that counts for something.” 

The albino sighed.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

The rotation schedule was not going to be finished this morning. Meghill accepted this and set his pen down.

“You involved her in something that was none of her concern,” he reprimanded. “She didn’t need to be put in the middle of it.”

“Nor was she in the middle of it. She was the solution to it.” Angert tilted his head. “Besides, it didn’t seem to cause her any distress. From what I heard, she handled the whole thing rather well.” He let that statement sit in the air for a moment, a bait in the pond that didn’t get bit. 

“I’m talking about the flower field.”

Meghill said nothing. There was nothing to say, he meant it when he expressed to the saintess that he would rather not reward such behavior. But then his friend’s gaze drifted, inevitably landing the flower crown that was on the corner of the desk. The man had placed it there when he arrived this morning. Telling himself that this was because he didn’t want to damage it by putting it somewhere careless. 

Angert looked at it for a long moment. Then he looked at Meghill.

“That’s new,” he remarked.

“It was a gift.”

“From Nikki, eh?”

“We were making flower crowns.”

“You were making flower crowns,” Angert repeated, sounding a little playful for anyone’s liking. “You. Her. Flower crowns. In Dragonrest Flowerfield. In the rain. My, my, my.”

“It didn’t rain until we were leaving.” He lied smoothly.

“Ah. So that’s the part of that sentence you’re choosing to address.” Angert unfolded himself from the chair and leaned forward to examine the crown on the corner of the desk with undisguised interest. “White daisies,” he observed. “Can’t say that I’ve seen them around. Not your usual style though, chief.”

“I didn’t choose the flowers.”

“No? In that case she chose them.” Angert straightened up, and the amusement on his face had softened into something more genuine underneath. “For you.”

The schedule was beginning to crinkle in his hold, and Meghill had to remind himself not to make a repeat out of yesterday.

“She is—” He cut himself off, and Angert waited for when he’s pick himself back up. He had the rare good sense, in moments like these, to keep his mouth.

“She is kind. Selfless, even. And she had done so much for us. I’m not—I’m not in the position to refuse her anything.” 

“No,” Angert concurred quietly. Because of course he knew. And Meghill could only sigh.

“And yet you still used it to your advantage…”

“It was for a good cause.”

The rain from the night before had left the courtyard outside the window dark and wet, the morning light coming through in narrow pillars where the clouds had thinned. Somewhere below, the early patrol was assembling, voices carrying up in fragments. The ordinary morning of the Boneyard had begun to emerge once more.

“She walked back with you,” Angert remarked, certainty where there should have been doubt given how he wasn’t exactly there—except there wasn’t much room for doubt when so many people caught sight of him and her. Running back, panting and laughing and drying each other off.

“She and Momo, yes.”

“And?”

“And it rained,” Meghill shrugged, stilling his hand from spinning the pen in its hold. “And we walked, then she returned to her quarters and I returned to mine. There is nothing more to report. Are you done with your interrogations now?”

Angert looked at the flower crown on the corner of the desk. 

“Guess so. I’ll leave you to it then, chief.” He said, moving toward the door. Pausing to give his old friend one last look. Warmth swimming in his own blue hues. “I’m glad you went, Meghill. Truly.”

“...Angert.” Meghill picked his head up from the desk, looking back at him, looking like he was about to let slip something vulnerable. 

Then he began to chide. A toothless action, but the intent was all the same. 

“Do not touch her ocarina again.”

The blue-haired man raised both hands in surrender. “Understood completely. I’ll find a different method next time.”

“There won’t be a next time. Leave her out of your antics.”

“Right, yes, absolutely.” He was already in the corridor. “Enjoy your rotations.” The door clicked shut.

Meghill looked at the flower crown on the corner of his desk for a moment. Then he returned to the rotation schedule, the flower crown unmoved by his bottle of ink. 

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ❀ ໒꒱┈•  ｡ﾟ

Epilogue

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ❀ ໒꒱┈•  ｡ﾟ

A week and a half have passed since the impromptu flowerfield trip, another night of rain had fallen across the boneyard, followed by another clear morning. Where everything was washed clean and faintly luminous, leaving the old bones catching the early light in ways they didn’t on dry days. The air fresh with the promise of new life.

Nikki had been out early to see it, making her way back along the main path through Great Lumieville with Momo at her heels. Giving him her rapt attention in conversation up until she saw the familiar white of Meghill’s hair ahead of her between the buildings.

She wanted to call out to him, assuming he was heading toward the outer gates and beginning his patrol, already on his way to the next thing the way he always was. She lifted her hand to wave. Yet before she could—

He was already facing her.

“Meghill!”

Maybe his sapphire eyes were sharper than her human ones, letting him see her before she had seen him. He was standing just off the main path where it opened into the small courtyard near the Cultivarium entrance, and his hands were occupied with something. Something he finished with a small, final adjustment as she approached.

“Good morning,” she said, having jogged up to his side. The man looked more at ease today, maybe he really had taken her and Angert’s concern to heart.

“Good morning,” he said back. Holding out a flower crown that, she realized at last, was for her.

It was made from some of the same flowers she’d used the evening before, the dragonbreath certainly, but there were other rarer kinds she seldom saw journeying around; but most notably—it had boneflame blooms. The one he insisted he didn’t need her to get for him despite being his favorite. The man had clearly gone back, or went through some other means of procuring them; the construction was neat and a good showcase of his skills. He had even woven in a trail of the small white fillers, the same ones she’d used in his, even though those weren’t native.

She stared at it. All wide eyes and parted lips.

“A crown for a crown,” Meghill said, his tone sounding more measured than usual. Reminiscent of someone who had rehearsed a line prior to ever speaking it. 

“You gave one to me, after all. And I’d rather not be further in your gracious debt.”

The faintest color had found its way to his face. Nikki had never seen that before, and now that she had, she’s quite certain she was going to think about it for a long time.

“Oh, Meghill…” she said softly.

“It isn’t as well made as yours,” he added, which was not true but she allowed him his humility and took it from his hands without resistance. The weight was even in her palm. The braids specifically were more elaborate than her own, though perhaps the same could not be said for the level of color coordination. Still, it was quite literally breathtaking.

Her cheeks had gone warm, she was sure of it now.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

She blinked up at him.

“It’s only fair,” the white haired man said back, insistent for once towards her. And as Nikki closed her eyes, the corner of her mouth upward. The crown settled more easily than it did with him. The human girl had no horns to navigate around and he was able to place it onto her head with ease. “There,” he said once done, pleased with the result.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, then around him. 

Around them, the courtyard had gone very quiet.

It wasn’t so different from the day they came back from the rain; all the Parksolians who had been passing through on their morning routines, now no longer doing just that. A cluster of healers near the far wall. Two of the patrol members coming off the night shift. Several of the scholars from the Cultivarium standing in the entryway with their morning notes held loosely in their hands, none of the notes being looked at. And the children.

A small gathering of them near the low wall to the left, the same children who had been at fateful ocarina lesson, who looked at their clan chief and the saintess in awe. Or at least something adjacent to it, whispering amongst themself. Some of them frantically, and with what appeared to be deeply felt emotion. One small girl had her hands pressed to her eyes. The boy who had been so focused on his playing the other week was staring with the expression of someone absorbing some very grave news. Another child leaned toward the girl beside him and whispered something that made her crumble to the floor behind her friends.

Momo observed all of this. Looking at them, then at Nikki and Meghill, and then back at the children.

“Tough morning,” he announced.

Nikki peered up at Meghill, her cheeks still warm, a smile she couldn’t entirely contain finding its way up her pretty face. The gift looked right at home on top of her white veil, he noted. Yet just as he was about to voice the compliment, she rose onto her toes. 

She almost didn’t reach her intended destination, having needed to brace her hand lightly at his arm for balance, and even then it was a thing nearly missed—the kiss she pressed to the edge of his cheek, just at the line of his jaw where she could reach, quick and soft. Stealing away the precious air in his lungs. Then she settled back on her heels, her brown eyes still on him, the warmth in her face deepening into something undeniable even from a distance.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “Truly.”

Meghill took it all in, her pale face flushing from the same emotion that had claimed hers. A gulp went down his throat, yet still no words came up.

“I should let you get to your patrol,” she continued, smoothing her hands once over the crown he’d placed, checking that it was settled. “But I’ll cherish it.” She met his eyes. “I mean that.”

“It’ll be an honor,” he finally whispered. He had wanted to say she was welcome to find him at night to show him the boneflame, but maybe that can saved for the messages. Lest he make a fool of himself in front of an audience. 

The young woman nodded and stepped back. Momo followed not far behind like he always had, turning away with her as they turned toward the lower path. Complimenting her beauty like usual whenever she looked happy with what she was wearing. 

Behind him, the chief heard the children erupt.

The whispers collapsed immediately into talking, all of them at once, several distinct theories apparently being advanced simultaneously. The small girl with her hands over her eyes was now saying something emphatic to the boy beside her. The night patrol members were exchanging glances. One of the scholars had apparently decided the notes needed reviewing after all and was looking at them very carefully.

Meghill stood in the courtyard, content on watching them until their silhouette faded from view, until her voice no longer echoed in his ear with the clarity of physical reality. And once both conditions were fulfilled, he and the courtyard both returned to their morning routine; the healers moving on, the scholars filing in, the patrol members continuing toward the gates.

The children lingered the longest.

Meghill looked down at them. Several of them looked back with expressions ranging from giddiness to despair. The small girl appeared to have reached acceptance, but the boy had not. “Back to your lessons,” the chief said gently, but with authority. And away they went, still talking amongst themselves.

He turned toward the outer gates and the beginning of his patrol, finding that the familiar pull of the next task was still there. But this time less like an excuse now and more like proper duty. The way it felt when he took on the role all years ago with Medael still by his side. 

She’d be proud of him like this, he told himself.